


1,700,000 to 1

by zeitgeistofnow



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Dubious Methods Of Caring For Friends, Friendship Dates, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Potted Plants, Roombas, Spying, platonic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 01:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14706315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeitgeistofnow/pseuds/zeitgeistofnow
Summary: Something’s up. Doug isn’t wearing a Star Wars t-shirt, and his light pink hair is shiny, like there’s something in it. Jacobi peers at him.In which Doug has a date (?), Maxwell reprograms a roomba, Jacobi hides in a bathroom and temorarily dyes his hair blond, and they all eat truffles (the chocolate, not the mushroom)reverse big bang work for roleplaying-fandoms (http://roleplaying-fandoms.tumblr.com). you can see their amazing art here: http://roleplaying-fandoms.tumblr.com/post/174053927357/my-art-for-the-wolf359-reverse-big-bangmy-writer





	1,700,000 to 1

Something’s up. Doug isn’t wearing a Star Wars t-shirt, and his light pink hair is shiny like there’s something in it. Jacobi peers at him.

“Why are you up this early?”

“It’s 7:30 in the evening,” Doug says, raising his eyebrows and smiling.

Jacobi takes another bite of his toast and rolls his eyes. “Maxwell and I were up late last night. Did you know they’ve created like four new Star Wars movies since we left?”

Doug frowns. “No…”

“Well, they have. We were watching them last night.” Jacobi pauses. “This morning.”

Doug opens his mouth to say something and Jacobi cuts him off, waving the hand not holding toast. “Seriously, what’s up? You look not-awful.”

Doug’s faint smile breaks into a grin, and he straightens. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jacobi mumbles around a bite. “But seriously.”

“I’m actually going out!” Doug tugs on the end of his shirt, straightening it, “For something other than work!”

“How nice. You know, usually-” Something occurs to Jacobi. “Is this like…”

Minkowski wanders into the kitchen, clutching a mug of something warm. “Is he meeting someone? Yes.”

“And you’re letting him-”

“Yup.” Minkowski sighs and nods. “Apparently the likelihood of a random guy he met at the park being a Goddard employee is 1,700,000 to 1.”

“Huh.” Jacobi nods. “Well, good luck.”

 

Doug’s been in the bathroom for more than an hour, which Jacobi wouldn’t mind in the slightest, except there’s only one bathroom in the house and he hasn’t showered in… too long, due to various variables, like Maxwell and this one tree outside their house.

“Are you almost _done?_ ” He sighs, leaning against the wall. “What are you doing, shaving your legs?”

There’s a pause from inside, then, “Yes!”

Jacobi groans. “Even then. You should be finished. Jesus- you’re fine, Doug.”

“Excuse me if I don’t take your word for it.”

Aaand Jacobi’s _not_ getting in that bathroom any time soon. “Fine.” He pauses, pushing off the wall. “Don’t use the silver nail polish. It doesn’t look good with your hair.”

“That’s your opinion,” Doug says, but a few seconds later Jacobi hears a mumbled “thanks,” from the door and he smirks.

 

Maxwell’s in her room, sitting on the floor among piles of books and hard drives and clothes, and typing- _tap tap tap tappity tap. tap-_ and she doesn’t look up when Jacobi comes in, just pats the floor next to her. “What’s up?”

“Did you know Doug had a date?” Jacobi asks, stretching out on the floor.

“Who do you think gave Minkowski that fact about Goddard?” Maxwell shrugged. “He told me first.”

“Is the thing about Goddard even true?”

Maxwell snickers. “Nah. I made it up.”

Jacobi frowns. “What if-”

“It’s fine, Daniel. Just because I don’t know the exact likelihood doesn’t mean it’s likely. Hera says it’s-”

“But just because whoever it is isn’t lethal doesn’t mean that something bad-”

Maxwell closes the computer and peers at Jacobi. “Why do you care?”

Jacobi sputters. “I-I-don’t?”

“You never got like this when it was me going out,” She frowns playfully. “What’s up?”

“Well, for one, you haven’t gone on a date since I met you, for two, you’re more than capable of protecting yourself, and three… I _don’t_ fucking care.”

“Hey, dude, it’s fine.” Maxwell bumps into him with her shoulder. “I was planning on stalking him anyway.”

“You were wh- yeah good idea. How?”

Maxwell pushes the computer off her lap and leans over and reaches under her bed, dragging a metal disk out. “This thing.”

“A Roomba?”

“I was messing with it a while ago. It’s equipped with a camera on the front and can be controlled remotely, which makes it great for undercover missions.”

She reaches over and grabs the potted plant on her nightstand, placing it on the robot. “See? Doesn’t it just look like it’s from a fancy restaurant?”

“Sure, I guess.” Not really. The plant’s half dead and you can see the Roomba easily.

Maxwell looks at him for a moment, and he shrugs. “It’s a fake plant on a Roomba.”

She sighs and types something into the computer. The plant is wheeled out of the room. It’s shedding brown leaves. “There’s a camera on there- we should be able to follow Doug to the restaurant.”

“Won’t stairs be a problem?”

“Yes,” Maxwell says, and the Roomba comes back into her bedroom. “That’s where you come in.”

 

“I’ve planted the… plant,” Jacobi hisses into his phone, pressed against the bathroom stall door. “Doug’s not here yet.”

“Good. I’ve got the feed on my phone. These are some nice feet. There’s this one lady with the weirdest shoes-”

“Feet?”

“Yup. In retrospect, this wasn’t exactly. You know. Planned out. The camera is planted too low.”

Jacobi starts pacing on the tile- not to easy in the confined environment.  “You mean I came all the way here for nothing? I stole Lovelace’s car, Maxwell, she’s going to _kill_ me-”

“What’s that rattling?”

Jacobi glances down at the red metal box he’s holding, which is probably pretty noisy. He carries it everywhere, though. He doesn’t notice it anymore. “My toolbox?”

There’s a pause. “You brought your tools?”

Jacobi crosses his arms. “They’re good weapons. What if it actually is a Goddard agent?”

“Oh, thank- I bugged it. Open the lid.”

“You _bugged_ my toolbox?” Jacobi’s not even surprised.

“Open the lid. The camera’s on the left side, near the hinges.”

Jacobi does and picks off the tiny camera. “I imagine you get a lot of good information, staring at the inside of my toolbox.”

“You have no idea.” Jacobi can almost see her tapping her fingers impatiently. “Go put it on the plant.”

“I can’t go out there, Doug’s probably-”

“Nope, he’s still in our bathroom, you’re clear- Oh, Doug! I didn’t think I’d see you- why are you in my room?” the call cuts off, and Jacobi sighs, looking at the camera.

 

“He’s leaving the house,” Maxwell says. Jacobi can hear the tapping of keys through the phone. “Positions.”

“I’ve been in this bathroom stall for ten minutes, I don’t need to move.”

“Good. I’ll text you a link to the feed.” The call ends. Jacobi repositions himself on the toilet and leans back against the wall. His phone pings a second later, prompting a video feed to come up.

Jacobi can see a leaf. Just a lot of green. Very nice, were they plastic-nature photographers, just right now it’s just _incredibly irritating._ He takes out his phone.

_alana, are you seeing something i’m not?_

_...no. can you reposition the camera? it is your fault._

Jacobi widens his eyes and dials her number.

“Why are you calling me again?” Maxwell’s playing music now- too loud. Jacobi doesn’t say anything.

Jacobi grumbles. “I don’t like texting. Didn’t you say he’s on his way here?”

“At this point, he’s probably already there, _at least_ waiting for a seat. Maybe they’re already seated.”

“And you want me to reposition the camera? Maxwell, Kepler would-”

“And it doesn’t matter would _Kepler_ would do at this point, does it?” Maxwell’s voice is sharp. “His plans didn’t always work out, did they.”

Jacobi stares at the bathroom stall. There’s an add for a burlesque show three years ago taped to it. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“So? Reposition it.”

Jacobi presses the end call button and flushes the toilet, then slips out of the bathroom.

He finds Doug right away- he’d dyed the ends of his hair pink a week or so ago, and it helps when he wanders off and Minkowski freaks out. He’s sitting at a booth in the corner, a few feet away from the plant. Whoever he’s sitting with is obscured from Jacobi’s view. Jacobi curses and takes out his phone.

_can you move the plant? it’s too close to him_

_you think he won't notice a potted plant moving on its own?_

Jacobi curses again and ducks back into the bathroom, opening his toolbox and pulling out a can of wash-out hairspray- blond- a fake mustache- also blond- and a pair of big glasses. He puts them on in the mirror, fidgeting with his disguise, buttoning up his shirt, wiping off his eyeliner. It’s all slightly over-dramatic, and Kepler had called it stupid, but it helps.

“You can do this. You’ve _killed_ people in restaurants this crowded before.” he murmurs to himself in the mirror. “Go.”

 

The disguise does nothing when Jacobi walks over to Doug’s table.

“Jacobi? What are you doing here?” Doug looks somewhere between homicidal and pleasantly surprised.

Jacobi smiles tightly, fondling the plant behind his back, trying to find the camera. “Just… you know. Maxwell wanted me to get her food. Do they do to-go?”

“Maxwell was eating when I left.” Doug frowns.

“She wanted some of their truffles.” This restaurant has Maxwell’s favorite truffles in the city, and before they left for space, Jacobi had made a _lot_ of late night trips to get tampons and truffles.

Doug raises an eyebrow. “What’s that for?” he gestures at Jacobi’s face.

“My ex works here.” Well, did work here. Seven years ago. “You know. Incognito.”

Doug laughs, glancing at whoever’s across the table from him. “Oh, sorry, this is my roommate, Daniel.”

Jacobi steps so that he can see Doug’s date and raises his hand to wave politely, a skill Lovelace has made him practice, after the two of them made a habit of going to Goddard’s galas- Lovelace because she won’t stop at anything to destroy them, Jacobi because he likes the feeling of being able to complain about thousand dollar wine.

“Hell- oh.” Jacobi blinks at the guy sitting there.

“Hey, Jacobi.”

It’s Klein, said ex who used to work at this restaurant.

 

“You know, it’s been really nice running into you, Doug!” Jacobi picks the camera off the plant and replaces it in a place that he hopes will work for Maxwell and takes a step away. “And nice to... meet you, Klein!”

Klein frowns at Jacobi, and Jacobi grins too brightly back before turning around and weaving through the table, finally making it out the door, collapsing in the front seat of Lovelace’s car.

_why didn’t you tell me it was KLEIN?_

Maxwell responds after a moment. _you think i knew? jesus. that sucks_

_one second._

_yeah?_

Jacobi calls her, spreading out across the car seat, propping his feet on the edge of the window. “You’ve got control of that Roomba, right?”

“Yes…” Maxwell doesn’t say anything about the phone call.

“Can you transfer it to my phone?”

“If you want. Why?”

Jacobi’s phone blips with a text from Maxwell, which he opens. “Great. thanks, Alana.”

“Sure…” There’s a tangible question in the word, which Jacobi ignores.

There’s a pause as Jacobi tries to figure out the controls- he can see Klein and Doug from his vantage as a rather tall and almost dead potted plant, and if he presses this button… it moves forward! Huh.

“You know, Daniel, you seem kinda invested in this. Maybe you-”

Jacobi grits his teeth. “Alana…”

“I’m just _saying.”_ He can _see_ her smiling smugly, and he grins despite himself.

“You’re never ‘just saying’ something.” They’d both decided years ago that excess words are just that, and never use more than they need around each other.

“Fair point.” There’s a pause.

“I just… don’t think they’re right for each other.” Blatant lie.

Maxwell laughs, startled. “So you’re going to… what? Attack them with a potted plant?”

“Yup. It worked for me before.”

“When- that did _not_ work. Kepler didn’t talk to you for a week.”

“Potato, patato.” Jacobi spins the plant in a circle, watching Doug’s brow crease through the camera as he peers at the plant. He says something offhandedly to Klein, and Klein laughs.

“Are you _jealous?”_

“No!” Jacobi shifts, moving the plant back and forth, pacing. “I just… don’t want anything bad to happen to either of them. I’m not used to being around people that can get hurt. It’s weird.”

“And you plan to keep them safe by ruining their date.” Maxwell groans and the call crackles. “Daniel, I can’t begin to tell you how-”

“Shh.” Jacobi rams the potted plant into their booth, causing dirt to rain onto the ground the plant to fall onto the floor. The Roomba scuttles off, under an unused chair, and Jacobi leans back.

“Done. Now, they can both find someone else, or no one ever again, and it’ll be-”

“Daniel,” Maxwell admonishes.

“He was working for Goddard.”

“ _Years_ ago!”

“I can’t believe you’re lecturing me about morals.”

“I’m not _lecturing_ \- you should go. They’re leaving the restaurant, and…”

Jacobi ends the call and pulls out of the parking lot.

 

By the time Doug gets back, Maxwell and Jacobi are sitting at the kitchen table, eating truffles that Jacobi picked up from somewhere else on the way home and talking. Jacobi’s washed the hair dye out of his hair and the fake mustache is stuck on the bathroom mirror upstairs.

“These truffles taste like shit,” Maxwell comments, and Jacobi pokes her. She pokes him back. Doug stands in the doorway, beaming and running his hands through his hair.

“There’s dirt on your shirt, Doug,” Jacobi says, taking a bite of the chocolate.

Alana leans into Daniel and murmurs, “He looks pretty happy.” Jacobi pokes her again.

“Yeah,” Doug says, “The weirdest thing happened!” He pulls out a chair and sits at the table, resting his hands on the table.

Maxwell glances at Jacobi. “Did it?”

“Yeah.” Doug stuffs a truffle in his mouth and holds up a finger as he chews. “After you left. You know that plant by our booth? It’s freaking sentient. Like a cousin of that one plant in the Hephaestus. It tried to kill me.”

“Huh,” Alana raises her eyebrows at Jacobi. “What happened?”

“Klein shoved it away! It was pretty impressive, like… you know? Did you know he was a secret operative?”

“Actually,” Maxwell says. Jacobi cuts her off.

“Nope. No idea. Weird.” Jacobi shrugs. “So, how’d it go?”

“He’s going to introduce me to his dog on Friday.”

Maxwell raises her eyebrows. “Sounds pretty serious. When’s the wedding?”

Doug blinks, his hand half-raised. “Wedding? We’re not- we’re friends?”

Maxwell blinks back. “Friends? Wasn’t that whole thing a date?”

Doug laughs awkwardly. “No… Did you _think_ it was?” He takes another truffle. “Nah, we’re just friends. I think you’d like him, Jacobi.”

“Oh, yeah, I bet he would!” Alana elbows Jacobi, apparently over her surprise. “Right?”

“Right.” Jacobi nods slowly. “Right. Yes.”

“Cool, I’ll introduce you sometime.”

 

“Did you know it wasn’t a date?” Jacobi rests his head on Maxwell’s leg, fidgeting with a charging wire he found on the floor. They’re back in her room, and it’s late, and Jacobi really ought to go to his room again, but Maxwell’s room is warmer and closer and they’re still finishing the tail end of the box of truffles.

“You think I did?” Maxwell looks down at Jacobi.

Silence. Jacobi doesn’t want to _say_ anything, but.

Maxwell laughs bemusedly. “I didn’t. He just came into my room and said he was meeting a guy for dinner.”

Jacobi shifts, stretching out of her floor. “It was kinda nice, doing the whole… thing. I’d missed all the… you know.” He mimes shooting her lamp.

“Yeah.” Maxwell nods. “Undercover operatives blowing up buildings to civilians spying on their friend’s dates. We could be a sitcom.”

“Hey, hey. Doug and I are not friends.” Jacobi holds up his hands in protest. “He’s like… a ward.”

“So I’m just supposed to ignore every friendly interaction the two of you have ever had?” Alana raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s-”

“ _You’re_ my friend,” Jacobi says, dropping his hands and turning over to look at her. “I don’t need _other_ friends.”

Alana stares at him. “Yeeeaaahhh. Not that I don’t return the former sentiment, I…” She pauses. “Dude, that’s really sweet.”

Jacobi rolls his eyes and grins at her. “Do you want to go out for dinner later?”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Friend date,” Jacobi clarifies.

Maxwell pretends to consider it. “We ought to make sure you’re not a Goddard agent first.”

Jacobi stifles a smile. “Not funny.”

“No,” Alana agrees, “Not exactly.”

 

Jacobi hasn’t gotten dressed up in too long- he doesn’t get dressed up for the Goddard galas, they don’t deserve his best, he wears black and sulks in corners for those- not since the last time he, Kepler, and Maxwell went out. It was to dinner, at an expensive restaurant in New York City, where they served wine-braised lobsters and you could see the entire city-scape from your table.

He doesn’t enjoy dressing up, per say, it’s always been rather confining once he’s in it, like a clunky Halloween costume, but he loves the getting ready. Putting on makeup, tying your bowtie, helping Alana with her cufflinks. They’re going to a fancier restaurant than the one Doug and Klein went to- at least a little in the spirit of showmanship, but mostly because these suits have been in their closets for too long and Maxwell wanted to wear them somewhere.

Lovelace whistles when he emerges from Alana’s room: “Geez, Jacobi, I didn’t know you cleaned up so well.”

Jacobi rolls his eyes at her. “We’re going out.”

“Where warrants bowties?”

Jacobi shrugs. “I would say nowhere, but…”

Alana slips through the door, tucking a phone into her pocket. “We’re going out,” she says brusquely.

Lovelace glances at Jacobi, cracking a smile.

Jacobi grins back. “We’re taking your car.”

“You’re doing _what_ now?”

“Taking your car.” Maxwell tugs on the hem of her shirt and brushes past Lovelace. “Thank you.”

Lovelace, still grinning, turns to Jacobi.

“She’s something,” Jacobi says. Lovelace nods, agreeing.

“She’s definitely something.” They high-five, and Jacobi runs out the door, smoothing his hair and sliding into the passenger seat.

“Let’s go be monsters,” he says, propping his feet up on the dashboard. Because that’s what they were, right? Monsters. Sharp teeth and smiles and everything that they were told to be. The phrase is more of a secret handshake than an admission at this point. But- Alana smiles, and he can tell she knows what he means.

They’re not the same as they were. They’re something else.


End file.
